


By Firelight

by randi2204



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Public Blow Jobs, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 10:18:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19904128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randi2204/pseuds/randi2204
Summary: A strange sound in the night wakes Bilbo from his well-deserved slumber.





	By Firelight

**Author's Note:**

> Disclamer: Not mine, all Tolkien’s, and no doubt he’s rolling over in his grave.

For the first few weeks of this adventure, Bilbo had not slept well, despite being tired – well, honestly, downright exhausted – when they made camp for the night. Hearing night noises through one’s open window while one was snug in bed was very, very different from hearing those same night noises while one was out in the wild, when one was practically surrounded by them. Every hoot of an owl or stamp of the ponies, every skitter of leaves, every creak of a tree wakened him.

He was not a happy hobbit when morning came.

Eventually, though, he got used to those noises, and his sleep was more restful. It took something more unusual now to rouse him from his slumber.

But something _had_. He came awake silently – luckily he always had, ever since his childhood days – and strained his ears to discover what it was that had awakened him. If it was dangerous, or had somehow gotten by whoever was on watch, well, it wouldn’t do to let… whatever it was know that at least one of the party was awake, now, would it?

The pop and crackle of the fire as it burned low, the snores of his companions, the faint rustle of a breeze through the trees… nothing seemed out of the ordinary, even to his sensitive ears.

 _Must have dreamed it,_ he thought, and let himself relax, ready for sleep to return. Tomorrow would be another long day.

Just barely audible above the breeze, he heard the hiss of a breath, as if it were sucked in over one’s teeth.

It was difficult to keep his brow from puckering into a frown; if anyone was looking at him, it would signal he wasn’t nearly as asleep as he appeared. But bringing up a hand to rub his nose was an excellent cover for that. Then he curled it beneath his cheek and breathed softly and regularly, alert now, doing his best to listen over the thudding of his heart.

A half-breath this time, choked off, like someone’s throat had closed in the middle of it

 _Well_ , he thought, _this is_ very _strange_. He opened his eyes the merest slit, peering through his lashes in the hope he wouldn’t be noticed.

The fire was all but embers now, just enough life in it to cast a warm glow over everyone and everything around it. He could see the unmoving forms of the Company, some sprawled on their backs, some curled on their sides, all of them asleep – _asleep_ , he reminded himself, _not dead_ – and counted them off silently.

They were all there but one. _Who’s missing?_ he wondered, before realizing it was Thorin. His innards lurched in a sudden spike of fear, but calmed when he remembered that Thorin had taken one of the watches.

He opened his eyes a little more, shifting his head slightly to find Thorin and make sure he was still unharmed.

A short huff of a breath, exhaled forcefully, followed by a quick inhale.

Thorin was painted by the glow of the fire, all ruddy and gold, and the faint light glinted off the silver in his dark mane. He sat on the ground, leaning back against a stump. At first, Bilbo thought Thorin must have fallen asleep; his head was tipped back a little, his hair falling over his shoulders. Then he caught sight of Thorin’s expression, and, flinching with realization, he decided it must be pain from his wounds, for Thorin had opened his armor and his tunic to press a hand against his chest.

Before he could scramble to his feet and offer what little aid he could, however, Thorin _moaned_ , softly, so softly that Bilbo almost didn’t hear it. _That doesn’t sound like pain,_ he thought distantly, and twined his hands together to stop his fingers from twitching. Only then did he notice that his armor wasn’t the only thing Thorin had opened; he’d opened his trousers as well, and even in the low glow of the fire, it was obvious what he was doing.

Thorin was pleasuring himself.

Bilbo felt his face heat all the way up to the tips of his ears, and wouldn’t be surprised if his whole body had blushed as well. _Oh,_ he thought, wishing he dared cover his face with his hands, _I wish I hadn’t woken up!_ Now… now that image of Thorin was burned into his mind: the strong line of his throat as he tilted his head back, the tortured pleasure on his face livened by the firelight, one hand pinching a nipple (Bilbo was _sure_ ) while the other moved slowly in his trousers.

Even now that he knew that Thorin was… having a private moment, he couldn’t look away. All of his attention was fixed on Thorin – watching firelight flicker over his face, illuminating how he bit his lip; listening to his hitched breathing as his desire built and how he tried to stifle the pleasure-sounds that escaped his mouth; wondering if that savaged lip would feel puffy and tender against his own…

All of Bilbo’s thoughts scattered as soon as he recognized what they were, and he discovered to his great dismay that excitement was curling warm in his belly. He tightened his fingers around each other, just to prevent a hand drifting down to crawl into his own trousers. He thought he might drown in mortification… and arousal, his sex twitching and firming as Thorin touched himself. _No,_ he told himself, for all the good it did, _no, stop that…_

Thorin nearly failed to swallow a whimper, and Bilbo wondered in spite of himself if he would take the hand out from beneath his shirt, if he would bite on a knuckle to stay silent… His hips jerked at the thought, his sex begging to be touched.

“Nngh,” Thorin groaned, then instantly bit his lip again, his features contorted as he sought out his release. He released his lip to gasp for air, still as nearly silent as he could manage.

Bilbo shuddered in his bedroll, feeling horribly exposed even though he was still covered by his blanket. This overhearing of someone taking their pleasure from their hands… this was _not_ something that well-born hobbits did! Then he remembered just _why_ it was that he could overhear. _Well,_ he thought, with as much wry humor as he could muster (which admittedly wasn’t much), _well-born hobbits generally don’t run off on adventures with dwarves and wizards, either._

Regardless, he knew he was stuck; until Thorin… finished and the watch changed, there was no way he could sneak off for his own wank. And watching Thorin, listening to him… well, he knew very well he was going to have to.

Panting a little, Thorin dropped his head forward, long strands of his hair shielding his face, and Bilbo felt a pang that he could no longer see his proud features, painted in the glow of the fire. Then he took his hand from inside his shirt and stroked it down the inside of his thigh, shivering into the touch.

 _It would be hard,_ Bilbo decided, watching and biting his own lip in a vain effort to distract himself. _Muscular and strong, and those muscles all taut from…_

“Oh,” Thorin breathed, the sound nearly lost in the snap of a branch in the fire, “Bil—” He cut off abruptly, and his hand clenched into a fist on top of his leg.

Bilbo’s ears rang as if Thorin had shouted directly in them. _Was that… was that_ my _name?_ he asked himself, stunned. _Is he… is_ Thorin _fantasizing about_ me _while he pleasures himself?_ The very thought stole his breath and caused his sex to throb insistently, straining against his flies.

He knew very well that part of the reason why he’d run after the dwarves, contract billowing behind him, was because Thorin had sparked his interest, and it had been a very long time indeed that anyone had done that. That attraction had taken a beating from Thorin’s dismissive attitude, but had revived admirably when the dwarf had declared how wrong he’d been.

But now… something in him started to burn at the idea that Thorin held him in the same regard as he held Thorin. The journey to this point had seen an awakening of his courage, and this was the next step – courage not only of the body, but of the heart as well.

Before he even knew he was moving, Bilbo crawled out of his blankets and crossed the short distance to kneel between Thorin’s legs. He laid a hand on each of Thorin’s thighs for balance and discovered they were hard indeed beneath his fingers.

Thorin had frozen at his approach, staring at him. The firelight played across his face, and Bilbo was sure he could see shock there, and disbelief, and perhaps even the barest hint of fear.

Well, there was no need of _that_. He leaned forward until his face was only a breath away from Thorin’s and licked his lips; immediately, Thorin’s gaze locked onto his mouth. “Under different circumstances,” Bilbo whispered, “I should be glad for you to make as much noise as you like. But for now…” Trailing off, he tilted his head and pressed his lips to Thorin’s. At first, Thorin’s mouth was slack against his, but before Bilbo could rue his courage, Thorin kissed him back, and a hand cupped the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair.

When he pulled away again, he was panting quite as much as Thorin, and yes, that bitten lip felt deliciously plump and tender against his own. His hands had tightened on Thorin’s thighs, his fingers digging into those tense muscles in some effort to keep his balance. It didn’t work; he swayed toward Thorin again and stole another kiss as heady and hot as the first.

It took some effort for him to regain the gist of his previous thoughts. “For now though,” he murmured against Thorin’s lips, “I think silence is best.” One more kiss, almost chaste compared to the others, and then Bilbo turned his attention to Thorin’s trousers.

Thorin had unlaced them only enough to slip his hand in, the easier to be presentable or perhaps battle ready if needs be. _Well_ , Bilbo thought, loosening the laces further, _we are certainly_ not _going to be presentable now!_ He nudged Thorin’s hand out of the way and, his own hands gentle, drew Thorin’s sex out.

For a fleeting moment, he had wondered if the shock of his appearance might have caused Thorin to flag a little, but his member stood firm and proud, bobbing a little when he released it. Bilbo’s own body blocked the light from the fire, but he could feel it was a pleasing size and shape as he traced his fingers delicately over it, though perhaps a bit larger than he was used to. Thorin shivered at his touch, his moan cut off abruptly. When Bilbo glanced up, he met Thorin’s eyes, dark in the firelight and with need, almost seeming to bore into him.

He didn’t look away until Thorin closed his eyes, then he bent to swipe his tongue over the head of Thorin’s sex. Thorin shuddered and gasped above him, and Bilbo immediately wished they didn’t have to be quiet, because he wanted _so much_ to hear Thorin in his pleasure. He savored the musky, slightly bitter taste of Thorin that burst across his tongue. It had been some time since he’d indulged himself in a lover, but the taste of sex was much the same whether it be hobbit or dwarf.

“Bilbo,” Thorin whispered – and even his whisper was deep, rolling over Bilbo’s ears and into his very body like a rumble of stone – “please…”

Well, it wasn’t like Thorin wanted him to do something he was _opposed_ to doing. He still took a moment to judge the right angle, ignoring Thorin’s huff, then closed his mouth around the head of Thorin’s sex and sucked gently.

Thorin gasped, his hips jerking forward slightly, as if he couldn’t quite control himself, but only once. Bilbo pinched the inside of his thigh, just hard enough to remind him that he needed to be silent, and felt one of Thorin’s hands comb through his hair. Then he wrapped a hand around the base of Thorin’s sex and set to with a will.

It had been a long time, but that didn’t matter; from the first moment he bobbed his head, taking more of Thorin’s member into his mouth, Thorin was at his mercy. And, oh, the sounds he just couldn’t quite contain – bitten-off moans, growls and groans deep in his throat, breathless whimpers – they were music to Bilbo’s ears. Thorin’s fingers tangled in his hair, never quite pulling, never quite directing, just heavy and _there_. On every down stroke, Bilbo kept his mouth loose; every up stroke, he sucked hard, or dragged his tongue along the underside of Thorin’s sex.

He pulled off to pant harshly, breathing in the thick musky smell of _sex_ , but kept his hand moving. Thorin gasped as Bilbo’s thumb grazed the head of his member, and before he took it in his mouth again, Bilbo glanced up, just to see…

Oh. _Oh_. Thorin looked utterly debauched in the glow from the fire’s embers. He had bitten down on the heel of his free hand to better muffle the noises of his pleasure, and his breath whistled softly around his flesh as he panted. His hair hung about his face, a few strands clinging to his sweat-damp brow, and he looked right at Bilbo, his eyes dark.

It was almost too much for a simple hobbit to handle, and Bilbo dove in once more, his mouth around Thorin’s sex, heart pounding hard in his chest. Back and forth, he took a little more each time, his ears attuned to the sounds Thorin tried to stifle. Those sounds went straight to his own sex, and between that and the knowledge that _he_ was the one to make Thorin so undone, he absolutely _had_ to take himself in hand. He scrabbled desperately at his flies, only undoing as many buttons as necessary to sneak his hand in. But touching himself brought only a momentary relief, because as soon as he did, he needed _more_. Needed to feel Thorin’s work-callused palm stroking him, needed to plunge between those thighs so heavy with muscle, to feel Thorin’s body around him…

Just imagining the things he might do to Thorin made him hum in anticipated delight, and he moved his hand faster, took Thorin a little deeper into his mouth. Above him, Thorin made a strangled noise that hardly seemed quiet, and his fingers tightened in Bilbo’s hair.

 _Oh,_ Bilbo thought a little dizzily, _I wonder what other lovely noises he might make…_ Reluctantly, he drew his hand away from his own member and lifted it to cradle Thorin’s stones. The soft flesh surrounding them was already growing taut, signaling his climax was close, and Thorin whimpered at his touch. He petted them for a moment, then moved farther, his fingers caressing the area behind them. There was a spot…

With the very first brush against that skin, Thorin trembled, his groan barely muffled by his hand. He began to rock his hips, and Bilbo found himself reciprocating with each thrust, drawing back so just the head of Thorin’s sex stayed within his mouth, then traveling back down his shaft. He couldn’t fit enough in his mouth to be able to bury his nose in the dark thatch of hair that surrounded the base of his member, but that didn’t seem to matter to Thorin. His broad chest heaved like a bellows as he tried to suck in air around the hand keeping him quiet, and tiny high-pitched whines escaped him on each exhale.

 _So close,_ Bilbo thought, and pressed his fingers firmly behind Thorin’s stones, sucking hard at the head of his sex at the same time.

Thorin shuddered, his whole body going rigid, head tilted back to the night sky as his climax took him. His spending flooded Bilbo’s mouth, salty and bitter; some of it leaked past his lips to dribble down his chin. He swallowed quickly, then again, until Thorin was completely spent and sagged back against the stump, panting for breath. Slowly, Thorin’s hand relaxed and stopped tugging on his hair.

Bilbo released Thorin’s sex to gasp for air himself, then carefully licked up the seed that had seeped from his mouth and down Thorin’s shaft, watching greedily as Thorin twitched at the heightened feeling. He pulled his hand from Thorin’s trousers and returned it to his own member, resting his head against Thorin’s thigh and breathing in the heavy scent of musk that rose between them. He only needed a few strokes to find his own ending, his seed soaking the ground between himself and Thorin, and he had to bite his lip to keep himself silent.

When Bilbo returned to himself, Thorin was gently combing through his curls, and he discovered he was loath indeed for it to stop. He tilted his head slightly, not enough to dislodge Thorin’s hand, and glanced up at him. Thorin’s face was still painted by the light from the fire’s embers, though Bilbo imagined there was a hint of a flush to his cheeks that wasn’t entirely from the fire. It was still lax and sated from his climax, but a soft smile curved his mouth, and Bilbo returned it happily.

“Thank you,” Thorin whispered, a quiet rumble that shivered in Bilbo’s bones. His hand slid across Bilbo’s scalp to cup his cheek, stroking his sensitive lips with one rough thumb. “Perhaps next time…” He ducked his head.

Bilbo felt his smile stretch wider beneath Thorin’s thumb. He wiped a hand on his trousers before gently tugging Thorin’s braid to reel him a little closer. “Next time?” he murmured, and let his tongue curl around Thorin’s thumb teasingly.

Thorin sucked in a breath, his eyes on Bilbo’s lips, and dragged his thumb away. Bilbo had only an instant to wonder what he might have done wrong before Thorin’s mouth covered his own, strong fingers curling over his jaw to draw him closer. He had not wanted to initiate a kiss – some disliked the taste of their own spending – but Thorin’s tongue demanded entrance to his mouth, and he gave it gladly.

His heart was thrumming fast again by the time Thorin broke their kiss, and they were both breathing hard. Thorin touched his brow to Bilbo’s, and Bilbo closed his eyes briefly, suffused by a warmth unrelated to arousal. “Next time,” Thorin said, no louder than a breath, “perhaps I, too, can take a turn… someplace we need not be so quiet.”

Bilbo grinned. “I would like that very much.”

He had to stifle a yawn as he was tucking himself back into his trousers, and Thorin huffed a soft laugh before straightening his leg and patting his thigh. Sleepily, Bilbo stretched his arm for his blanket and drew it around himself, then lay down, pillowing his head on Thorin’s leg. He hummed in contentment when Thorin’s fingers tangled in his hair once more.

He’d almost drifted off when a rustle of blankets dragged him awake once more. “Next time,” he heard Dwalin snort. “You weren’t that fuckin’ quiet _this_ time.”

For just a moment, Bilbo was utterly horrified – if Dwalin had heard them, who _else_ had they woken with their sex-play? But that moment passed, even as Thorin drew in a breath to respond, and he accessed his courage once more, grateful that it was no longer as elusive as it had once been. “You’re just jealous,” he retorted sassily, just loud enough for Dwalin to hear.

Above him, Thorin had to stifle a laugh, and smiling, Bilbo snuggled into Thorin’s thigh and fell back to sleep.

***

July 7, 2019

Revised July 19, 2019

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this prompt](https://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/702.html?thread=321982#t321982) on the Hobbit Kink Meme.


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